<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Constant Conversations by firbolgcapra</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27511327">Constant Conversations</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/firbolgcapra/pseuds/firbolgcapra'>firbolgcapra</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Canon-Typical Violence, Dorian is insecure, M/M, More tags to be added, Not Canon Compliant, Trans Male Character, dorian actually has to address elf slavery, elves are not just humans with pointy ears, inquisitor is a fool, no transphobia here, will be trespasser spoilers in the future</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-08 04:07:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,645</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27511327</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/firbolgcapra/pseuds/firbolgcapra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian Pavus joined the Inquisition to do good, not to fall for the weirdest damn elf he's ever encountered. Capran Lavellan went to the Conclave out of curiosity, not to have a near death experience that ended with him becoming the herald of a goddess he'd never heard of.</p><p>A loosely collected set of vignettes to fill out the Pavellan romance, touch on the elf slavery thing, and give the Dalish a break from generational trauma and genocide.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus, Male Lavellan/Dorian Pavus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Constant Conversations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hey readers, feel free to insert your own Lavellan in your head, I won't be hurt</p><p>also, this is going to involve a lot of skipping around because I hate just reflavoring in-game interactions. i apologize in advance</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The supposed Herald of Andraste was in over his head.</p><p>Dorian turned this phrase around in his head as he sat back and watched the catlike elf scramble up a jagged pillar of red lyrium. He had been the one to offer to accompany the Inquisition party to the confrontation with his old master, but he'd expected some light banter and an exciting bit of combat before an easy surrender- the Inquisition forces had infiltrated the castle so easily, after all. And yet, here he was, watching an elf scale blighted crystal like it was some sort of climbing wall, a year out of time and ankle deep in sour water.</p><p>When most humans thought of elves, they thought of pale-skinned shrinking-violet types with pointy ears and tiny frames. This, Dorian supposed, was an expectation picked up from decades of interaction with city elves. Lavellan, though, was most definitely <em>not</em> a city elf. In fact, they didn't particularly fit <em>any</em> of the standard elvhen descriptors. Tevinter had a distinct obsession with enslaving elves, and still Dorian felt distinctly unfamiliar with whatever kind of elf this Capran Lavellan was.</p><p>"Dorian?"</p><p>The mention of his name, albeit heavily accented, snapped him from his moment of confusion.</p><p>"Yes, don't wear it out," Dorian said lightly, taking a moment to look intently at a soggy paper in case the elf thought he was staring, "I seem to have found a servant's notebook. It's filled with the most intriguing scribbles of those, er..."</p><p>"Halla." Lavellan's voice sounded directly in Dorian's left ear.</p><p>Dorian just about jumped out of his skin. How in Andraste's name had he moved so fast so quietly? "By the Maker, my elvhen friend, you really ought to wear a bell."</p><p>The elf stepped back, whiskers twitching. Whiskers. Dorian couldn't quite make heads or tails of that particular quirk. "I apologize. I'm afraid I'm not accustomed to human hearing. Shall I bang a drum next time?"</p><p>"Yes, please, that would do nicely. But yes, er, halla. This notebook seems rather old, sadly. I'm not sure I could preserve it," Dorian said, and turned to set the waterlogged tome back on the desk, but a sharp intake of breath from the Herald stopped him. "Care to share, Lavellan?"</p><p>"You... you could save this? Potentially?" His gaze was riveted on the clumsily rendered deer so intently Dorian was caught off guard.</p><p>"I mean, I do enjoy restoring old books, so much history of Tevinter has been erased thanks to the damned Imperium trying to gloss over old atrocities, but..." Dorian hesitated. The elf tilted his head questioningly. "I suppose I could try?"</p><p>Lavellan's face lit up, and he smiled with his oddly sharp teeth. "That would be amazing! Even if only that page."</p><p>"Lavellan, forgive my directness, but we are lost in time. We just watched Fiona die encased in crystal. How in the world are you concerned about a drawing of a deer?"</p><p>The elf's ears twitched, but his demeanor didn't change in the slightest. "I'm afraid I'm not particularly magical, Enchanter Pavus. I cannot quite wrap my mind around our situation. I can, though, admire the artistry of these halla." He gently took the notebook from Dorian's hands and traced careful fingers over the shaky lines.</p><p>"See, Enchanter? These are the drawings of a child." His voice was suddenly soft. "These scribbles in the corner... they were learning Elvish."</p><p>Dorian shook his head in confusion. "But I was told elvish script was a secret only known by your, as you call them, Keepers."</p><p>The elf laughed, which sounded more like the twitter of a bird. "The elves in this region are so odd. You shem are so odd. Knowledge is not to be kept secret. It's to be shared, to be passed down." He returned the notebook to Dorian and turned to stare up at a crumbled staircase.</p><p>The mage took a moment to really look at the odd elf. Unblinking purplish eyes that flashed in the dark. Mottled green skin covered in freckles and etched tattoos. Wild red hair that seemed to defy gravity. A distinctly catlike face, complete with whiskers and a hint of fuzzy hair along his cheekbones and jaw. This so-called Herald of Andraste was certainly no beast- he had the proportions and build of many a human, if a bit more narrow-shouldered, the delicate hands of an elf, the intelligent glint in his eyes Dorian saw more often in Tevinter magisters than any other. His style with knives was distinctly Dalish. Dorian caught himself thinking of the elf as oddly <em>attractive</em>, and it made him reflexively scowl at nothing. He was not going to attempt to bed the first competent man he encountered in Ferelden. Well, the second. Felix was perfectly competent, and Dorian had never had any desire to...</p><p>"Mythal's sake, shem, are you still breathing? I hear Cassandra," Lavellan hissed.</p><p>Dorian looked up from the chunk of lyrium he'd been fiddling with absently and realized that the damned elf had somehow managed to scale one of the crumbling walls to reach the top of the collapsed staircase. Dorian pocketed the crystal and walked closer.</p><p>"You do realize, Lavellan, that I cannot scale vertical walls like some sort of acrobat-" Dorian was cut off by the elf dropping to the ground directly in front of him and turning around. "What in Andraste's name are you doing?"</p><p>The elf laughed in that chirping tone again. "I know you're horribly preoccupied with appearances, Enchanter Pavus, but no one is around but me and a handful of overly elaborate Mabari statues. Get on my back."</p><p>"Awfully forthcoming of you, Lavellan," Dorian quipped, but if the jab registered, the elf ignored it. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, he added awkwardly, "You are an elf, are you not? I'm afraid I'd crush you with my sculpted human form."</p><p>The elf turned back towards him and looked him up and down with those odd eyes, only to spin right back around. "I'm no Iron Bull, but I'm still a hunter, Enchanter. I've carried gutted gurn further than I'm about to carry you."</p><p>"Bullshit," Dorian exclaimed, recalling the single awful run-in he'd had with the brutes.</p><p>"Elves aren't delicate flowers, Enchanter. You? Maybe." Was that a note of <em>teasing</em> in their voice?</p><p>Dorian huffed in indignation, but relented, hesitantly wrapping his arms around Lavellan's shoulders. He was shocked to realize that though the Herald was certainly elf-height, he was by no means as delicate as the city elves Dorian typically encountered. The elf was solidly built beneath their light rogue gear, and they easily rose to their full height with Dorian awkwardly straddling their waist. With a flick of their wrists, they unhinged two serrated tools that had previously been hanging from their belt.</p><p>"Ice axes," He explained. "Picked them up from a Frostback Clan a while back. Not much use with natural rock, but..." Lavellan gestured at the uneven flagstones. "Shem architecture has enough nooks and crannies."</p><p>Dorian wished a million times over that the elf would save the chatting for when he was not straddling them in the middle of a future apocalypse. Thankfully, the elf seemed to be done with his exposition. He stepped forward, jammed one of the axes into the space between two bricks, and heaved himself and the mage upwards. Once they got going, Lavellan scaled the crumbling wall surprisingly swiftly, seemingly unhindered by Dorian's weight. It took only a few moments for them to scramble up onto the next level. Dorian let out a breath of relief as the elf knelt slightly to let him disentangle himself. Standing on his own, he took a moment to listen for Cassandra. Nothing.</p><p>"Lavellan. Are you quite sure you heard your Seeker?" The elf tilted his head quizzically, whiskers twitching. "You... cannot hear her?" He turned toward a closed door, badly damaged by the constant moisture, and murmured something to himself. "She's praying. But she sounds different, somehow."</p><p>Dorian huffed. "Well, by all means, let us follow those ridiculously precise ears of yours."</p><p>Lavellan looked back at Dorian for a moment, and the wetness at the corners of their eyes caught the mage off guard. "Dorian, you're well-versed in this magic. She... she'll be okay if we fix this?" His unblinking eyes were pleading.</p><p>Dorian ran through the variables in his head. Time magic was untested, untouched by any but Alexius, existing only in theory. It was possible that anything that happened in their present would now inevitably lead to the events established here. It very well might be impossible to reverse. They might be trapped forever- a thought that didn't particularly bother the mage, as untethered to the present as he was, but might destroy the Herald. After a moment of hesitation, Dorian smiled lazily at Lavellan.</p><p>"Of course she'll be okay, my roguish friend. I invented this magic, remember? Reversing this will be a cinch. Alexius will wish he'd just killed us." The mage hoped desperately that the elf could not sense the doubt in his words.</p><p>Lavellan looked down at the Anchor flickering in his palm, a jagged eruption of magic from a sickly-looking Fade-touched scar. He flexed his fingers thoughtfully and glanced back up at Dorian with pensive relief. "Yes, yes, I trust you. We'll be fine. She'll be fine. Thank you, Enchanter Pavus."</p><p>Dorian sighed. "You can just call me Dorian, my friend. You already do."</p><p>The elf made a confused noise that Dorian could only think of as a chirp. "But you insist on calling me Herald, or Lavellan."</p><p>"Fine, then. Capran."</p><p>"Dorian." The elf shot the mage a toothy smile and threw open the rotting wooden door. "There we go."</p><p>Dorian sighed and trailed after him. He couldn't decide if he was glad or horrified that this was the person he'd been stranded in time with.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>